


Sweetness

by OceanTheSoulRebel



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders learns to bake!, F/M, M/M, Man I wish there were more gendered pairing options for GNC, Other, anyone not part of the gender binary in general, anyway, or for NB folks, or like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 15:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15974774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanTheSoulRebel/pseuds/OceanTheSoulRebel
Summary: Anders learns a new skill.





	Sweetness

**Author's Note:**

> For @loghainmactir on Tumblr, a sweet little Anders ficlet.

“Like this?”

“It’s, hm, it’s not  _ quite _ ...” 

Anders sighs when Orana looks into the bowl with a critical eye—the one she hides behind her polite, if still a little cowed, smile, the one she always levies at his attempts to learn. He’s not used to not getting it—to not having an instinctive, visceral connection to what he’s doing, to not have a command of such skill. 

Instead, his bowl of flour and water and everything else sits, dejected, rejected, not-quite-right.

==

“Why do you want to use my kitchen, anyway? I figured my library might be more interesting for you,” Hawke remarked. “I never would have thought you so culinarily inclined.” 

“I just,” he started, peering at his cards fruitlessly. Knickerweasels, he was bad at this game. Anders picked through his hand, discarding and drawing new cards only to wince at their values. “Baking. It reminds me of... something better, I guess. Something wholesome.” 

“Bah. Boring.” Isabela’s declaration was punctuated with a swish of her mug, brandished widely. “I hear that some bakers in Tevinter, though, are working girls. Something about the bread they make in the day works well for their night job. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, now would you, Fen-Fen?”

Anders peeked up over the edges of his cards to see Hawke’s curious stare, apparently ignoring the indignant huffing and drunken teasing of their friends. 

“’Wholesome,’ huh?” Hawke asked, a small grin lifting the corner of their mouth. “Well, if Orana’s okay with it. It’s her domain, after all. I don’t think even Mother infringes upon the sanctity that is Orana’s kitchen.”

A sharp elbow dug into his side, accompanied by a contented laugh. “Maker knows this shithole could use some more good, ol’ fashioned Ferelden goodness, Blondie. Just maybe don’t burn the mansion down? You’ll make the neighbors titchy,” Varric said with a lopsided smile. “Then Aveline will have to do the paperwork, and we’ll never live it down.” 

Anders flushed and nodded, more to himself than any of them. “I’ll try not to,” he muttered. 

==

“This looks like a better batch, Mast—Messere Anders,” Orana says, peering into a large bowl of spiced dough. “Smells right, too.”

“Thank Andraste for that,” he sighs. He’s ruined more batches of bread and buns than he can count, but Orana has the patience of a saint. “What next?”

“Now we knead and shape them, then we can fill and bake the rolls.” Her small hands lift the heavy ceramic bowl and prod the dough onto the counter. Anders watches as she explains the movements, his eyes tracking her fingers as she pokes and portions out the wet mixture.

He follows her lead, rolling the sections into roughly flattened circles before slathering on a scoop of a sugary butter mix. Anders follows her technique for finishing the sweet buns and manages to mangle only three of his attempts.

“You’re getting better,” she tells him when he stares mutely at the mess. “It takes time, like any skill.”

Anders snorts and shakes his head. “Well then, I hope you don’t mind having a student forever, Mistress Orana,” he eventually says, smiling at her shy twitter.

==

Over the next few months Anders turns out loaves and pans full of various baked goods: classic Fereldan carrot cakes, Tevinter-style sweet buns, some spiced bread that Hawke earlier declared “fit for the Maker Himself” in a moment of tipsy clarity.

“You’re going to make me fat,” Hawke tells him one evening. They lean against the counter next to him in the kitchen to watch Anders work. “You’re going to make me fat, then I won’t be able to fit into my armor, and then what will we do?”

“What indeed,” Anders mutters. It’s raining hard over Hightown and the dough won’t rise right. He fights not to gnash his teeth at the bowl. “I suppose you’ll just have to feed your share to the dog.”

“And let Dioge get fat and sick? Perish the thought! I’ll just take it for the team.” Hawke smiles as they shove another sweet roll in their mouth. “These are amazing,” they say around a mouthful of crumbling pastry, “they really are. If the whole ‘renegade mage activist and full-time charity healer’ thing doesn’t end up working for you, you could always open a bakery. Oh! I could work there, maybe do some of the heavy lifting and such. You could pay me in treats.” 

Anders snorts, finally turning his glower from the bowl of disappointing dough to Hawke’s grinning face. “I’d end up out of stock every day you worked, knowing you,” he says with a smile. His hand rises to brush an errant lock of dark hair from Hawke’s face, only to leave a dusty trail of flour in its wake. He drags his fingers over Hawke’s cheek and leaves his mark with a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Hawke asks. 

“Nothing,” he says, “I’m just… happy.” 

Hawke leans forward with an indulgent smile. “It’s a good look on you,” they remark, eyes dancing in the light of the lit sconces. Their hands reach to brush over Anders’ cheeks in answer, mimicking his action. 

“It’s a good feeling,” he murmurs. Flecks of icing still flavor Hawke’s lips when he steps closer and brings their mouths together. “A very good feeling.” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr at [ocean-in-my-rebel-soul!](https://ocean-in-my-rebel-soul.tumblr.com)  
> 


End file.
